I'm frustrated as we head out of the station and get back in the officer's car.
“Bring me to Teddy's,” I tell him.
“There's a diner that might be a calmer place,” he suggests.
“That's fine, I'd rather go to Teddy's.”
I have no interest in sitting around a quiet, empty diner for whoever knows how long it's going to be until they let me go back to the cabin. At least at the bar I have the chance of learning something about the town and the people in it.
And have a drink. Could definitely use one of those.
Chapter Four
Stepping into the dimly lit interior tells me everything I need to know about why people in town would call this place a tavern. It has the feeling of a place a traveler would like to stop and rest. Whether there are actually places to sleep here or not, it's a comfortable place to find yourself when you need a break from the rest of the world.
Until everyone else there notices you. Dozens of eyes turn to look at me from around the room. The crowd in the bar is far from huge, but their scrutinizing eyes make it seem like I’m out on a stadium stage. I stop just inside the door and look back at them. Unsure of exactly what to do next. A man sitting at a nearby table stands up and comes towards me with a swagger in his walk. I can't tell if the swagger is purposeful or alcohol induced. Possibly a little of both.
“Well,” he says, hiking up his pants and sucking his front teeth. “Aren't you a pretty one. You must be new around here.”
“And you must not be,” I retort.
“Why don't you let me show you around?” he asks, trying to sling an arm around my shoulders.
I duck out of the way, shaking my head.
“No thank you. It seems to me you need just about all the guidance you have to get back to your table over there.”
Some of the other men scattered throughout the bar let out whoops and hollers of delight. The man in front of me goes red in the face. He looks like he's going to say something else, which I'm sure won't be nearly as friendly. A younger man comes up behind him and smacks him hard on the back.
“That sounds like a good idea, and I'm sure Randy here appreciates the suggestion. Don't you, Randy?” the younger man says jovially.
The older man blinks at him a few times like the words are having a hard time getting all the way into his head, then he nods.
“Sure, Jake. I was just trying to welcome her to town.”
“I know, friendly as you are. But why don't you go on back to your table and I'll take it from here. The missus will probably be sending along your usual ride soon, so I would think you want to make sure you finish up that beer.”
Randy looks embarrassed and downtrodden as he maneuvers his way back over to his table and plops down into the seat, pulling his beer over to him and nursing it. I look over at the younger man and smile.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Not a problem. I wouldn't want Randy giving you the wrong idea about our town.”
He starts walking over to the dark wood bar up against the wall at the side of the room. I fall into step behind him. He walks behind the bar, and I slide onto one of the stools still available at the very corner.
“And what would the wrong idea about your town be?” I ask.
“That all the men around here are like Randy, who won't even give you two seconds to breathe when you walk into a room,” he shrugs.
“Then I am glad I don’t have that idea,” I chuckle. “So, Jake. Does that make you Jake Logan, the owner of this place?”
He looks at me in surprise. “My reputation precedes me. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”
“Don’t worry. The police officer I rode over with told me.”
He laughs. “Police officer, huh? Maybe your reputation should be the one we’re worried about. Quite a way to make a first impression in town.”
“You have no idea.”
“Well, why don’t I get you a drink, and you can tell me about it. Then I’ll decide for myself what kind of rumors I’m going to spread about you among all the townsfolk.”
“Make it a good beer, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
He takes a glass from the rows lined up on the counter and fills it at one of the taps. The thick, dark brew fills the glass and ends in a perfect head. He slides the glass toward me, and I smile.
“I’m impressed,” I tell him. “Looks like you might have poured a beer once or twice in your life.”
“Once or twice,” he echoes with a grin. “I think I was pouring beer before I poured my own milk at breakfast.”
I take a sip and lick the foam from my lips. “Is that legal?”
“It is when it’s the police you’re pouring for,” he shrugs.
I nod. “Funny how laws are flexible like that.”
Jake tilts his head toward the glass. “You like it?”
“It’s really good. So, why is it you’ve been skipping nursery school to pull beer?”
“Well, this was my father’s bar before it was mine. And his father’s before it was his.”
“Was he Teddy?” I ask, taking another sip.
“Nope. Teddy was the man my grandfather won it off of in a game of poker,” Jake tells me.
I laugh. “You’re kidding.”
Jake shrugs. “Feathered Nest has all kinds of stories.”
“So, you’ve been here your whole life?” I ask.
“Oh, no. You’re not going down that path anymore. You can’t avoid it all night. I want to hear about your brush with the law.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a brush with the law. Just an incident involving the law.”
“Go ahead,” he nods.
I wait for him to laugh and wave off the story, but when he doesn’t, I let out a sigh.
“Alright. So, I just got into town. Literally. I was at the place I’m renting for less than half an hour when someone knocked on the door. I assumed it was just the owner of the house because no one had left me information or stayed to meet me or anything. So, I opened the door, and it was definitely not the owner of the house.”
“Who was it?” he asks.
“Well, that’s kind of the problem. I don’t know. He collapsed when I opened the door and died on the porch. That’s how I ended up getting picked up by the police and brought to the station to meet the delightful Chief LaRoche.”
He fills his own cup of beer and holds it up to me in a toast.
“Now that is an entrance,” he says.
I hold my glass up toward his and bow my head slightly. “Thank you. I try my best.”
“Did you find out what happened to him?” he asks. “Was it a heart attack or something?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll find out more when they do the examination on him, but I highly doubt it was a heart attack. He was bleeding.”
Jake’s face darkens slightly.
“Bleeding?” he asks. “Did the police seem concerned about that? Did they mention anything about it?”
He seems suddenly aggressive, like the idea of this stranger being hurt is seriously upsetting him.
“Not specifically. They were obviously worried about someone being dead on the porch, and they asked me a lot of questions, but they didn’t say anything directly about it,” I tell him.
He’s looking down at his feet like he’s trying to get his thoughts together, but then suddenly lifts his head to look at me.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say that.”
“Is something wrong?” I gently prod, seeing how much he’ll reveal to me.
“Don’t know if it’s something you really want to be hearing about on your first night here,” he says.